


Nocturne

by souriantsacha



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, eliott plays piano, it' s a little depressing ngl, lucas plays piano, omg they were neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/souriantsacha/pseuds/souriantsacha
Summary: Eliott and Lucas both moved recently into the apartment facing the other. Both running from a past they prefer to forget. Eliott has a love for piano he uses to cope. Can he convince Lucas to dig up his love for music, the one he has hidden away since death entered his life?
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> For Lu
> 
> trigger warning: mentions of death, suicide

**Paris, fourth of May 2020 19h43**

Eliott recently moved to Paris. He’s just your typical nineteen year old boy from Lyon. He’s young, naïve and desperate for love. His first love to be specific, a blooming flower that he would remember forever. The first love he would put in a little box in his heart and take with him forever.

He works in a video store, he’s very glad to have it. He always appreciated cinema and it pays his bills so he has nothing to complain. His true passion is music. He always loved it and still does. He started playing piano since he can remember, next up followed guitar and violin was what he learned recently.

He comes home from a late shift, darkness has fallen over the big city and he hears rain tapping on the roof, it sounds like little footsteps. He casually throws his keys on the kitchen counter and makes his way into his small living room. He has a couch in the one corner with a table in front of it, he doesn’t have a tv but he uses his laptop to watch movies. He can’t afford a tv anyway. Next to it, is a bookshelf where his two violins are leaning against, behind _them_ , his paperback novels all tucked away between the dark, old wood. Then his big windows that look out on another building. His view on Paris is barely even able to see, he only sees the lights of the night life of Paris from the corner of his windows. It was a cheap apartment so he didn’t expect much from the view. Between his big windows, a door that goes to his small balcony. In the corner, in front of his window, stands his piano.

A black and white masterpiece he bought years ago. He remembers having to call his friends Idriss and Sofiane to help him carry the instrument up the stairs, it wasn’t that big but surprisingly heavy. His piano is a part of his life. It went with him throughout everything. Every journey, every fight, every tear, every joy, every laugh, every kiss and every romance.

He puts his bag next to the couch and sits down at the instrument. It feels familiar when he rests his long and slender fingers on the keys, it feels like entering home when he pushes them in and an old but calming sound comes from it. He improvises for a short while and then decides to play from his favourite pianist: Chopin. All different Nocturne’s flash through his head, every single opportunity, but he settles for Nocturne op.9 No.2. The sad but beautiful music flows out of the piano and his memories free themselves

He thinks about his parents who always meant well yet always went one step too far trying to control him. Or said better, trying to control his mental illness. He remembers it all. The mania, the overwhelming euphoria, the damage, the realization, the doctor appointments, the diagnose, the pills, the “I’m so sorry for you”, the pain taking them every day, the sleepless nights, the awareness of his mental illness being permanent. His parents meant well like he said but didn’t trust him anymore. He feels like a disappointment, he disappointed them in being a good child, a healthy child. It went downhill from there. He started failing his classes because why bother studying if you’re crazy anyway. He pushed his friends away, they didn’t deserve a psycho friend like him, they deserved better than that.

And then, he reached the lowest point, which he remembers vividly. He remembers standing on the edge of the river, the tears in his eyes, begging to come out, the eventual sob leaving him, his hands clamming on to the rails, turning white from grabbing it too hard, the blood leaving his muscles. He places one feet of the small spot he’s standing on, he leans forward and he lets go. The cold water hits him, filling his lungs and his first reaction is to swim but he stops his attempt, letting his body fall down. He opens his eyes, watching the greyish blue water form around him while he feels his breathing stop. He feels like he’s floating, he’s finally free and closes his eyes as life takes away the last part of his soul from him away.

That’s when he felt an arm pull him up. When life made him open his eyes again, he barely remembers the first seconds. He remembers sirens, a man talking, something being pushed against his chest, his mother crying, a towel around him, him being taken away. The sound of his mother’s desperate cries haunting him into a darkness. Next thing he can remember decently is the colour of the white walls of the hospital.

He thinks about Lucille. The person who should have been his first love yet she never even came close. What they had wasn’t love, it was comfort, it was familiar. They were both afraid of what was out there so they settled for something they both knew. He remembers everything. The forced kisses and love making, the clear tenseness, the finally happening fights, the intensity, the screaming, the glasses breaking because he stood up from the table aggressively, shoving it too hard, the crying, the eventual making up, forgotten but never forgiven, the paranoia, the jealousy, another fight, the final break up, they both left with their hearts broken, both decided to hide their pain in a big city, Lucille went to Brussels, Eliott went to Paris.

He stops playing and looks up. He frowns when he sees the lights being turned on at his neighbor’s apartment. Confusion strikes him, he swears he thought no one lived there. A man walks into the living room, he has brown, fluffy hair that he for some reason would love to run his fingers through. He’s pretty short, between 5’2 and 5’6. He seems muscled or at least naturally built. Eliott lets his eyes wander over the room. It’s decorated basic but then his eyes fall on the piano in the corner. He gasps slightly, _a pianist_.

The man can’t be much older than him, maybe his age? Or even younger? He watches the man sit down on his couch and take his phone out of his black jeans, unlocks and starts scrolling through it. Eliott quickly realizes how absolutely creepy and terrifying he’s acting and retreats to his piano, playing the next nocturne he can think of, letting himself get lost in the notes.

He’s so lost in it that he doesn’t realize the pair of blue eyes watching him with fascination.

**Paris, third of June, 2020, 13h26**

Eliott stares at the ceiling, the grey turning weird shapes in front of his eyes. He’s lying on his back, in his bed. He was doing better, he swears he was doing better.

His job became even better, there were these two friends that always came to rent movies called Lola and Jo. Lola was really interested in cinema and loved to talk about it with him. She also recently moved here with her girlfriend Maya and their friends. Jo always tagged along with her, he thinks she has a little bit of a crush on him and that’s why she always stares at him.

He went out with his friends every Friday night, they had fun together. His broken heart wasn’t healed yet but he was picking up the pieces. He even went on a couple dates, still searching for that special first love. They never worked out but at least he tried. His parents were off his back since he moved away which was a huge relief, he still had a lot of contact with them.

That’s when the depressive episode hit him like a strong wave at sea.

He feels miserable, the pain coming back, unnecessary anger boiling in him, the frustration of wanting to scream at his mental illness.

He hasn’t moved, just staring at the ceiling, barely blinking, his teeth clenched together in a rush of emotions. He hates it, he hates this, he hates himself so much.

Eliott takes all the strength left in him and stands up from his bed. He takes a look at his miserable self in his mirror. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a red shirt, he hasn’t shaved in a while and it shows slightly, his hair is a goldbrown mess, the bags under his eyes a greyish blue, they look like bruises. He looks terrible, shortly summarized.

He walks into his hallway, his first thought is going to the bathroom and shower because he must smell horribly. He freezes when he sees his piano from the corner of his eye, his hand already on the doorknob of his bathroom. He lets the hand fall back next to his side and he turns to the instrument. He walks through his living room, his eyes fixated on the black and white. He sits down, a sudden eager to play washing over him and carefully begins to play. He chooses for a sadder song, a happy song would sound sad anyway with the mood he’s in.

Everything he feels flashes through him throughout the keys. He pushes hard and aggressive on the keys, his frustration boiling over. His eyebrows form one big furrow as he closes his eyes and continues to play, slowly the anger gets replaced with sadness A tear leaves his eyes, letting a warm stripe of water slide over his cheek and it drops on the black painted material of the piano. He knows this will pass over but he doesn’t want to have to deal with it.

What he doesn’t know, is that his window is open. That the busy people of Paris can hear the emotion of his music. That Lucas, who lives in the building facing his, can hear the clear pain and can see the tears fall on the instrument.

**Paris, eighteen of June, 2020, 18h21**

It’s not that Lucas hates life, it’s that he wants to take a chair and hit life with it until it passes out.

He comes home, he turns on the light, basically smashing his hand against the button in anger and he sits down on the couch as always, he bounces slightly when he throws his full weight on it. He throws his phone next to him not wanting to check.

Today was horrible. He had agreed to meet up with their whole friend group from high school at a bar. The night had just begun and some more people from high school had showed up. In the end, his ex girlfriend Chloe showed up too. She wasn’t very fond to see him.

Lucas had a hard time in high school. His friends wanted him to date this girl but they didn’t know what he was hiding. They didn’t know he was hiding he was gay. He admits he stayed with Chloe too long, using her as a cover and never having the courage to break things off, until their last year. He snapped, confessed everything in anger and had run off. Later on he made up with his friends, all apologizing for how they treated the other. He talked to Chloe shortly but the message was pretty clear: he is gay and could never date her. So when they saw each other again today, a year after high school ended, she wasn’t exactly very happy to face him again. She started screaming, humiliating him in front of his friends and the whole bar, calling him names he rather doesn’t repeat. In the en, he just left and returned home.

Lucas moved into this small apartment not that long ago, trying to run away from the past. He somehow convinced his dad to give him a little money for buying this place. His relationship with his dad is difficult to say least. His mom got diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was 13. She lived at home for two more years but after that he just coulnd’t handle it anymore. His dad was always away working but in reality, he’s sure his father just wanted to be busy so he didn’t have to deal with his life at home. With his dad being away, he left him alone with his mother. It was difficult, trying to live with someone who was struggling so much. Of course he’s aware mental illness doesn’t define anyone. When he thinks about his mom, he doesn’t think about that. He thinks about her candles with a warm, pastel colour, her blond hair, her sweet smile, her light blue eyes, her laugh when he said something funny, her chocolate chip cookies, her piano playing.

When his mom passed away last year, he swore he’d never play piano again. He inhales audibly, her dead body still remembered so clearly, the cry he let out.It was necessary for him to see her lifeless body because he couldn’t believe she had attempted suicide, a part of him wouldn’t believe it. After the traumatizing sight, that part of him turned grey and dark, a bitter spot locked deep in his heart. He misses her so much, he misses everything about her. Every death you experience, leaves a mark on you. A scar on your heart that once in time gets ripped open again for the hundredth time.

He meant it when he said he swore he never played again. Even when Yann bought him a small and simple piano for his birthday. He has it in the corner of his apartment, hid away.

He only thought about playing again when he saw his neighbor playing a while back. He seemed to be incredibly sad. As if his pain and sadness was written all over him yet his playing was amazing. That’s when he, after all this time, felt a faint urge to play again.

He lets out a sigh and rests his gaze on the piano. Blood rushing to his cheeks and tears prickling into his eyes as the memories of his loved mom race back to him. The scar in his heart being ripped open.

**Paris, first of July, 2020, 01h03**

Eliott is standing on his balcony, hovering over the edge while looking at the little part of view of Paris he has. He has light up a cigarette that’s resting in his hand. The lights of Paris’ nightlife are dizzying, darting up in front of his eyes, reflecting in the blue. His episode passed over like he said it would. He saw Lola and Jo at work again. He went out with his friends again. But something in his life was missing and he doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t feel good, his last episode seeming to have ripped his heart out and stomped on it until it broke into pieces again. His heart is glued back together hastily yet he feels like it can break apart any minute again.

He hears the tone of a song, even better, a piano song. He freezes and turns his head instantly to the music. He looks up and a small smile tugs at his lips when he sees it. His neighbor playing the piano, his head bowed down to the instrument, his body slowly moving with the music and his lips pressed together in a fine line. His window wide open so his piano playing loud and clear.

After a while, Eliott recognizes the song and smiles. It’s Chopin. He can’t rip his eyes away, watching and listening intently to the tones of the keys. The emotion behind the song is intriguing, it feels like the other male has a lot of bottled up emotions and he finally releases them on his piano. It’s like he’s dancing with music, freeing whatever was stuck in him.

The song ends and his neighbor does what Eliott would never have expected, he looks up and grey blue meets steel blue. He panics, realizing the man knew he was staring and he feels like a child being busted while stealing candy from the kitchen. Instead, the brunette smiles at him kindly and all he can do is smile softly back.

Something deep in his heart moves, a broken piece heals slightly, a little crack is closed. The first love he craves for deeply, can maybe be this man with eyes blue as the ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://ffriluftslivv.tumblr.com/post/625919360655130624/the-inspiration-comes-from-a-comment-that-i-found/) was the inspiration post for this short fic. Please be kind I wrote this at 2 am and English is not my native language. I hope you enjoyed it
> 
> This fic is very personal to me because I used a lot of my past in this, I'll gladly take criticism but please don't go too hard on it.
> 
> [This](https://stoffans.tumblr.com//) is my tumblr. Don't be shy and come write something in my inbox.


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